


A Very Important Question

by inkstiel (Theconsultingdetective)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blasphemy, Blowjobs, D/s undertones, Dom!Cas, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Sub!Dean, Top!Cas, bareback, bottom!Dean, canon!verse, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theconsultingdetective/pseuds/inkstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel asks a question, which leads to Dean making a confession, which leads to Cas putting Dean in his place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patience and Chastity

"Sorry, run that one by me again, would ya, Cas?"

"I want you to kiss me," Castiel repeated candidly. "I have wanted to for some time, and what with us being alone, I have decided that now would be the most advantageous moment." Dean's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish eating and he set his beer down on the table, next to the ancient book that reeked of dust.

"O...kay," he said finally, rising to his feet. "I mean, I don't guess I could exactly deny you...you ever kissed anyone before?" Castiel nodded.

"On occasion. I believe you were there for one of my most...memorable," he answered, no trace of awkwardness in his words.

"Oh. Yeah. Kinda tried to put it out of my mind..." Dean shrugged, trying to play it off despite the feelings of jealousy that came coursing back. Castiel broke out into an honest to god grin and sat down beside Dean, chair turned to face him.

"You aren't perhaps jealous, are you?" he asked, the slightest teasing edge to his voice. Dean reprised his goldfish imitation, twice in one conversation with Castiel-a record. Truth was, the angel had him dead to rights, but he wasn't about to say that, although he would have to eventually. It depended, he supposed, on how the kiss went.

"I-what?-no. No," he said eventually, emphaticness feeling a little forced and sounding even more so. Castiel's grin shrunk to a smirk and he nodded, obviously smug.

"Of course," he replied, unconvinced. "Now, are you going to kiss me or aren't you?"

"I mean, if you-"

_Damn it,_ Dean thinks angrily, _all the times you've thought about doing this and when the chance comes you're acting like a freaking teenager?_

"I do, Dean. You needn't make so much of it," Castiel assured him, reaching up and taking his hand. And as cheesy as that might sound, the skin-on-skin contact (especially in the context) that has always felt and will always feel somehow so _natural_ and so _right,_ makes him decide that yes, this is really what he wants, and yes, if Castiel is to be believed, this is what he wants, too.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed. God knows he was no prude or anything, but Cas was...different, to him. With him, what he feels isn't the fiery burn in the pit of his stomach that rages for a while and then vanishes. No, with Castiel, it's like a slow heat, enduring and long-lasting and yet still somehow searing and urgent. It's strange, to say the least.

The drag of Castiel's thumb across Dean's wrist brought him back to reality, his mind returning eagerly to Castiel's request. He rested his hand on the base of Castiel's neck and almost instinctively, the angel moved towards the touch.

"Okay?" Dean asked. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Dean, you need to stop handling me like I am made of paper," he replied. "I am an adult. I am experienced. And I can appreciate some roughness." Dean smirked. Yeah, he could definitely get behind a little roughness.

Encouraged, Dean leaned forward and pressed their lips together, moving his own slowly against the angel's. Castiel kisses like he behaves, Dean discovered-intense and slow and with an eerie kind of depth. It's the kind of kiss that Dean feels everywhere, that travels up and down his spine like a strength tester at a carnival, rippling from his lips down to his fingertips, down to his toes, hitting everywhere in between (and some spots stronger than others, to be sure.) He trailed one hand down his chest to grab the lapels of that dirty old trenchcoat Cas always wore and pull it, so Cas was tugged closer. Lurching forward, the angel practically tumbled into his lap, and Dean breathed a little laugh against his mouth. Not what he was shooting for, but this could absolutely do. He adjusted the pair of them, one hand gripping into Castiel's thigh in a way that made his, and consequentially Dean's, breath catch, so that the angel was straddling his legs. Cas was ever responsive to the change of position and took the opportunity to plant one hand on either side of Dean's face and, as Dean would put it later, "go for it." If his previous style wasn't shiver-worthy enough, this one was damn near enough to do Dean in all on its lonesome. It was hungry and heated, but not long and drawn out-Cas would kiss him, doing what he wished with Dean's pliant, full lips, and then withdraw his own mouth, leaving his face close enough that Dean could feel the ghost of his hot breath, and then lean back in to do it again. It was absolutely killing him, and after a particularly incendiary slip-slide of Dean's eager tongue against Cas' teasingly sealed lips, when Cas pulled away, Dean let out a genuine whine and then blushed instantly. Cas rewarded the simpering noise with a smirk. "What, Dean, this is not enough for you?" he teased wickedly, and Dean could barely hold back another pleading whine. "What more could you possibly ask from me?" he asked, all innocence that Dean was fairly certain was feigned. His thoughts were difficult to wrangle-most of them weren't coming from his brain, after all-but when he got them together all he could manage was, "Wha-what happened to innocent virgin Cas?" Castiel chuckled darkly.

"I could certainly revert to my old, sheltered facade, if you wished, but by the feel and look of things I don't think you do." Dean shook his head wordlessly. "Now, what more could you want from me? How could I possibly satisfy you?"

"You know damn well..."

"I want you to say it."

_That wicked, winged bastard._

"Cas. I want you to _fuck_ me," Dean breathed. The whole room faded away, it seemed, and a smirking Cas leaned down and captured Dean's lips with his own, a promise in the kiss that Dean hoped he would fulfil damn soon.


	2. Impatience and Lust

          The angel pulled away and Dean reached up, on instinct, and gripped the lapels of Castiel's jacket, tugging it back and down till it fell behind him. His hands slid over his chest to the buttons of his shirt and he started working away at them, but before he could get too far Castiel's strong hands caught his wrists, and damn if that wasn't the hottest thing in the nation. Dean wasn't a fan of being dominated, in theory, but in practice he was clearly enjoying it, or maybe he was just enjoying Cas.

  
"Now, Dean, patience is a virtue," he chided, though his tone was anything but virtuous. "Do you know your virtues?" Dean shook his head.

  
"You wanna teach me?" he asked, voice low. Cas smirked.

  
"Certainly," he agreed, rolling his hips down gently and slowly. Dean's breath hitched. "First is diligence..." Another roll of his hips, more firmly and deeply but only by a little. "Then temperance..." A second roll, deeper than the last. "Charity..." Again.

"Kindness." Again.

"Humility." Again, and he moved Dean's hands further down his chest to rest on his hips.

"And chastity," he breathed, lips against Dean's ear, so close he could feel them move. Castiel's hot breath sent shivers down his spine and he made another pleading noise, almost pitiful.

"Didn't figure you'd be so...mn, god...good at that," he breathed, dragging Castiel's lips back to slant his against them.

  
"Oh, Dean," Cas purred, almost chidingly. "You don't understand. I've taken on human form time after time, again and again...and how do you think I passed the nights?" Dean blushed from his temples to his toes and everywhere in between. "I have lain with many people, Dean...men, women, all those in between...but all I want now is you, Dean." Even as Cas spoke, he rolled his hips down long and hard against Dean's, making him groan and whine and do everything he could to haul him nearer by his collar.

          "C'mon, Cas," he panted, momentarily unable to form a whole sentence. "You want me so bad, c'mon and have me already, Jesus."

  
"Do not blaspheme, Dean, it is unbecoming, even from you," the angel demanded, somehow managing to sound commanding with his lips pressed against Dean's, breathless and obviously just as needy as Dean. "You're testing my limits, Dean..." he warned. "I don't even know if you'll get what you asked for, to be quite honest. Perhaps you don't deserve it." That had no right to make Dean feel the way it did, even more desperate and heated, all pretense of teasing games vanishing for him.

          "No, please, Cas, I need it, I need you," he pled, though secretly he didn't mind being denied, much less having to beg.

  
"If you truly desire me so badly, you should have no problem waiting, Dean," Castiel reprimanded. "Though I am finding myself becoming impatient, as well, and would like to satisfy you as much as you wish to be satisfied." Cas' dirty talk may have been a little unorthodox, but it worked like a charm on Dean.

  
"Yeah, Cas, please," he breathed, hands fisting in the starched fabric of his shirt.

  
"Come, then," Castiel replied casually, tugging Dean to his feet and hauling him back to his bedroom, stopping at damn near every surface to shove him up against it and kiss him, hard and deep and pressing their bodies together.

          In a flurry of touch and motion, with Dean hardly paying attention to anything that wasn't Cas' voice, body, or the reactions the two pulled from him, Cas was lying on the bed, on his back, with Dean straddling his hips, leaning down and kissing him, licking the seam of his lips and trying to coax his mouth open. He knew the angel was keeping his lips closed just to prove a point, just as an exercise in denial, so when he finally managed to pry them open with his cunning tongue it was even more of an accomplishment and a reward.

His hands, meanwhile, worked at the buttons on Cas' shirt, so pristine, carefully washed by the angel and hung up, ironed every so often. He'd been desperate to wrinkle that shirt of his ever since he first saw Castiel in that barn five years back. Cas didn't stop him, either, just let Dean have his way for the time being, though Dean didn't know how long that'd last. When his shirt was splayed open, Dean ran his hungry hands over the scar-crossed skin, warm and inviting, almost demanding touch. He ground his hips shamelessly down and his hands moved for the button on Cas' black dress pants, but the angel caught his wrist again and fresh excitement flared up in Dean's...well, everywhere.

  
"You first," he smirked, reaching his free hand up and pressing it to the fly of Dean's jeans. His wrist brushed against the ever-growing bulge beneath the rough denim and Dean's breath caught, turning into a moan on the exhale.

"Well," Cas laughed, the sound wicked and delicious, like poisoned honey. "Aren't you excited?" he grinned rhetorically, and instead of something witty and sharp-tongued, all Dean could manage was, "God yes."

  
"Blasphemy, Dean," the angel chided, and Dean couldn't tell if he was being serious or teasing, but it was enough to send every ounce of blood in his body rushing southward. Pushing his luck, he knew, he breathed "Jesus Christ, Cas," and the angel fixed him with a stony glare.

"You need to learn how to follow instructions."

  
"Teach me, then." He gave the most innocent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal to the angel, who in turn demanded, "Remove your hands from my body. You are not to touch me or yourself unless directly told to do so. Am I understood?" Dean moved his hands and placed them on the bed on either side of Cas.

  
"Perfectly," he breathed.

  
"Good," Cas nodded, "because if you persist in disobeying I will have to tie you down." Dean shivered all over, and without a further word, Castiel reached his capable hands up and palmed Dean through his jeans, pressing too gently against his trapped cock.

"You _are_ excited," Cas noted with a wry smirk. "Have you been waiting for this for a while? For me to fuck you, to satisfy you like you've never been satisfied in your life?" Dean, admittedly surprised, squirmed in anticipation, grinding again against the other man's pleasantly sharp hips. This time, he managed to draw a groan from Cas' pretty pink lips, and Dean's heart practically stopped at the sound. All he could do in reply was a little simpering moan, weak and desperate and eager.

"C'mon, Cas, quit bein' such a damn tease and just do it already," he pled, unable to sound threatening between the whines and whimpers issuing from his throat.

  
"Be patient, Dean, or you'll find yourself alone just like this, empty and wanting. And trust me, that is not how I want this night to end." That shut Dean up quick.

  
"Good," Cas murmured, and Dean found himself internally preening under the praise.

"Strip."

The word is short and quick and to the point and Dean absolutely eats it up, doing as he's told, grabbing his shirt by the hem and yanking it up and over his head. Ever so casually, Cas tucked one arm behind his head, looking up at Dean. He reached over with the other hand and fiddled distractedly with the elastic waistband of Dean's boxers, the sheer proximity setting Dean's hear pounding against his chest.

"You've taken to this new arrangement rather well, Dean," Cas pointed out nonchalantly as Dean pulled off his shirt, leaving him naked save for his boxers, which were already stained with a very telling wet spot. "I bet I can tell you to do anything I wish and you'd do it for me..." He snapped the waistband of the boxers against Dean's hip and the other man was in such a state that the resultant brush of the fabric against his painfully hard dick was grounds for another groan.

  
"Wouldn't you?" Dean bit down on his lip hard and nodded, not able to form a coherent sentence. "Good."

          _Good._ This is new, very new, and Dean momentarily wondered where the Cas who actually asked to kiss him earlier had gone, though he wouldn't trade this one for the word. He had never expressed interest in being treated like this, never plucked up the courage, but it was wonderful now, being able to relax from the typical position of being in charge of everything and everyone 24/7. Dean shucked off his boxers and crossed his wrists behind his back, revealing his cock (which was now straining up towards his stomach, a sight that would've been severely humiliating if Dean hadn't been distracted by, well, everything). Cas just stared approvingly up at him, sliding his hands down his sides, over his hips and the fronts of his thighs.

"Dean," he breathed. "You are so beautiful." He ran his hand up the flat plane of his stomach and mapped out his body with his hands, memorising every detail, skirting over rough scars and warm tan expanses. Dean made a simpering impatient whine and Cas dragged his hand down his chest to wrap around his shaft, tearing a breathless noise from his throat. He squirmed and wriggled atop Cas, eyes screwing shut, blush colouring his collarbone and cheeks. The other man wrapped a hand around his cock, twisting and stroking, just rough enough for Dean's liking. His mouth fell open, letting out a moan that would put any of the pornos he'd watched to shame. Cas hardly had to do much, because Dean's hips took over before long, thrusting sharp and fast into his hands. All too soon, he felt himself approaching release and cried out to give Cas fair warning. 

  
"Mm, fuck, Cas, I think I'm gonna-" At this, Cas wrapped his hand around the base of Dean's cock, not allowing him to come just yet. "Cas!" Dean begged. Castiel sighed, like he was dealing with a petulant child.

  
"Now, Dean, not yet," he chided.

  
"Cas..." Dean whined, writhing hopelessly.

  
"Patience, Dean," Castiel chided, but nonetheless lifted his torso up off the bed and pulled off his shirt. He set it to one side, practicing an amount of care Dean would've found adorable in about any other situation but now just found annoying. He finally worked off his slacks, leaving himself in only those white boxers that Dean hated, hanging over him without shape or form.

          Dean shifted himself down slightly, straddling his knees so he could lean down and nose at him through the dense white fabric, his breath hot enough that Cas could feel it even through the cloth, hands on the bed holding himself up.

  
"Please, Cas," he breathed, beginning to mouth at him through his boxers, the press of his lips against his sensitive, already-hard flesh pulling involuntary groans out of the angel.

  
"Dean..." he panted, his hips canting up towards Dean's mouth. They were both so far gone for each other, neither of them there enough to decide what came next but not so far away as to forget their need.

  
"Tell me what to do, Cas, anything," he murmured. "I'd give you anything."

  
"You," Cas managed, but even so clearly filled with lust he managed to sound authoritative and the sound tied Dean's stomach in hot, tight knots. "I want your mouth. Dean, just give me your mouth..."

Dean's eager grin widened as he reached over and hooked two fingers in the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down to free his hardened length. Cas was about as well endowed as an angel, by rights, should've been; Dean had seen a handful of men before, naked, and none of them quite measured up to this. He pressed wet, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all over him, making him groan aloud and squirm and wriggle under his attentions.

Bit by bit, he swallowed him down, finally taking him in his mouth until his nose was pressed up against his lower stomach and the tight dark curls there, Cas' back arching up off the bed and almost involuntary moans yanked from his mouth. Had he not been otherwise occupied, Dean would've smirked proudly up at him, but as it was, he sucked in his cheeks and felt the heavy weight of Cas on his tongue. God, how many years had he deprived himself of this, of him, and for what? How long had they wanted each other and been too scared to say? It thrilled Dean and made him sick at once, and he wondered how much easier they could've made each other's nights, how much better he would've slept if he was sore on Cas, or how much calmer the angel would've been if he'd had an outlet for his energy. But this was no time for 'shoulda coulda wouldas'-now it was only them and a big empty house.

Dean pulled off after a moment and ran his tongue over his lips to slick them up, letting Cas take his chin between his forefinger and thumb and draw him up for a slow kiss before releasing him again. He gasped and tensed pre-preemptively while Dean swallowed him back down, engulfing him again in hot, wet softness that was all licking tongue and tightly sealed lips. Cas' hips stirred and he hitched his knees over Dean's shoulders, feet against his sides, toes curled hard into his feet. His head was thrown back and his back arched, and his hips twitched again, thrusting up into Dean's mouth. He was ruthless, ruthless when he wanted to be, and Dean was loving it, meeting his every move with a bob of his head that tears groan after groan from Cas' mouth. Dean is clutching the sheets and Cas is scrabbling at the blond human's shoulders, fingers twisting in his hair. He could tell there were gonna be little scratches all over his skin, red raised marks he'll treasure till they heal, and then maybe he can talk Cas into giving him new ones...fuck, the thought makes things worse for him and he aches, right down to his core, aches to be touched with those strong, warm angel's hands. It occurs to his for an instant that there's something even more perverse in all this about Cas being an angel, a wave of celestial intent, and Dean being a human, and both of them being men, but there's too much anticipation and blind want coursing through his mind to let him worry. Cas reached down and tapped his cheek with slightly shaking fingers, and Dean pulled off with a wet smack, taste of precome and and sweat and Cas lingering on his tongue.

After a long, lingering kiss that's all wet and sloppy and and loud from the slow drag of body on body, Cas' voice broke through Dean's mind as the only trace of coherence.

  
"Get on your stomach and tell me where I can find the lubricant," he said, his voice stern and firm. Dean chuckled, head spinning and dazed.

  
"I'm telling you, Cas, you really gotta shorten your words just a tad. Saying lube won't kill you."

  
"Dean," Cas said warningly. "Is that any way to treat a man who will have you at his mercy shortly?" Another white hot gust of desire exploded through Dean's veins and he whined-yeah, whined-and shook his head. Castiel nodded, smiling almost smugly.

  
"Good, Dean," he praised, almost crooned, stroking his hair.

"It's in the nightstand," Dean admitted breathlessly. "The lube. It's right in there, please, I need..."

  
"I know you do, Dean," Cas assured, almost gently, kneeling on the bed beside Dean. "I know. What is it you do with this, hmm? Do you open yourself up when your brother is asleep and the house is quiet? Fuck yourself on your fingers and think of me?" Dean whined again; he wanted to scream, yes, yes, every night, but he'd been rendered mute with anticipation.

  
"Dean..." A bottle clicked open and Dean could hear the telltale noise of Cas slicking up his fingers, making him draw in a gasp of anticipation. "Answer me. Be good and answer me, Dean." Dean swallowed hard and tried to get his thoughts organised.

  
"Yes," he breathed, blushing into the bedspread. "Yes, every night. Thought about you every time." Cas hummed and smirked behind Dean, drawing one lazy finger down over his hole. Dean's back arched at the hint of stimulation, a groan wrenching from his throat.

          "Look at you, Dean," Cas breathed, sounding a bit wanting himself. "So desperate, so ready, and I haven't even started yet." Dean huffed into the bedspread, bucking back on Cas' fingers.

  
"Castiel...Cas, please..." he begged, hands behind his back, knees tucked up under himself and so, so vulnerable. With anyone else, it would've sent nerves and fear rocketing through him, but with Cas it was nothing but surrender and peace.

  
"Be patient, Dean," Cas soothed, rubbing his back with his free hand. "I wouldn't leave you like this. Not after you've been so good all night, my darling." It's the first time anyone has used a pet name like that to him and not been sarcastic. My darling. He could get used to that. Instead of saying so much (Dean hardly has the energy to think it, in fact) he presses back again, and Cas' finger slips past the first ring of tight muscle.

Dean groaned, "More, more," and Cas added another, and another still, scissoring and stretching until Cas decided Dean was prepped enough and took a condom out of the nightstand, when Dean wriggled his hips around Cas' fingers and said, "C'mon, we don' need that, Cas. 'M clean, ' m clean, just _fuck me already._ " Cas growled, actually growled, and one head spinning move pulled his fingers out and slid his cock inside.

          "Oh, _fuck_ ," Dean groaned, body rocking forward with the initial push. "Cas...Cas, wait. Wait, lemme..." Breathless and blushing, Dean shifted until he was comfortable. The stretch still seared a little, made him wince when he moved, but it was nothing that wasn't worth it for the pleasure.

  
"You're okay, Dean. Take your time," Cas soothed, stroking his side like he was some frantic, panicked animal. They were slumped body to body, Cas' chest to Dean's back, the both of them huffing and panting.

  
"Cas, I got it, got it, move," the human requested, pushing back. "Don' gotta be so gentle, baby-"

"Dean," Cas interrupted, voice cutting through the air like a sharp knife. "I was not asking you. I was telling you. Take your time. Enjoy this as much as I do." Dean sighed a little puff of breath into the bed and nodded, taking another big gasp of air in like he had been held underwater for years and now was his chance to breathe. On the exhale, Cas moved, thrusting just the last of the way in only to pull back and leave Dean almost empty. He groaned from behind him, sounding almost inhuman, one hand gripped at Dean's side and the other holding his hip to keep him from pushing back.

  
"Cas," Dean moaned, stretching out the word beyond recognition, all wanton and desperate and dangerously close already. "Ah...Cas..." Cas punched his next breath out with another move of his hips, this one marginally slower than the last but still _not fast enough._

  
"C'mon," he begged while he still had his voice, "need more, faster, I c'n take it..."

" _I_ know what you can take," Cas said, somewhere between firm and scolding and kind and reminding, although perhaps they were the same. "I stitched you together, Dean, don't you remember? Piece by piece, I put your beautiful body, your amazing soul, back together, and now, now, I'm going to take you apart and do it all again." All the while he talked, he was moving, biting back groans and noises, Dean with his fluttering eyelids and his gasping lips. "I know this body far better than you ever can," he said, and as though he wanted to prove it, moved just so to hit a spot inside Dean that tore a noise out of his throat unlike one he'd ever made before, that made his whole body clench and relax in such rapid succession it hit him like a wave. "I held your very soul, your essence, in my grace and saw your purity and knew from that moment that I had to have you, Dean Winchester, that there was no one else out there for me but you."

"Cas," Dean gasped underneath him, the angel's deep thrusts consistently knocking the air out of his lungs. "Cas, need...touch, touch me, fuck..." For once, Cas didn't make him wait, reached around and down underneath him and stroked his heavy, almost aching cock in time with his precise thrusts. He groaned and cried out in a language Dean didn't know, something that sounded so old and powerful that it sent a shiver up Dean's spine. 

"Have I not cared for you, Dean?" Cas asked, an innocent tone to his question. "Have I not given you everything, made myself wholly yours?" Dean summoned up the energy to nod, just barely, huffing and breathing hard into the bedspread, just on the brink of release. "Remember this, Dean," the angel commanded, his voice low and dark in the most pleasant of ways. "As I am wholly yours-" he thrust in, Dean's back arching, "-you are wholly mine."

It was that, that statement of ownership, of possession, that sent Dean over the edge as much as anything else. With a fractured groan of Cas' name into the bedspread, he shattered like a pane of glass, spilling everywhere just when the angel followed suit, making him practically shudder from all the sensations. Cas rolled his hips, just a few more times, getting Dean through it all with unmatched patience. When they were both sated, catching their breaths and shivering slightly, Cas pulled out, leaving Dean sensitive and a little sore and on the high of his life. He guided him onto his side, gathered him close, and pressed little kisses onto his sweat dampened hairline.

  
"That was...euphoric, Dean," he breathed. "Thank you for giving me that." Dean huffed a laugh.

  
"Don' have to thank me," he dismissed, pressing back against Cas, in essence, snuggling (though he didn't have to admit it). "Wanted you for a long time." He paused, then asked, "Hey, Cas?"

  
"Yes, beloved?"

  
"All those things you said...about my soul and all...were they true?" Cas smiled.

  
"Every word, Dean," he said, sounding so earnest that if he wasn't so emotionally spent Dean would've cried. "Dean?"

  
"Yeah, baby?" Dean asked, looking up at him. Cas grinned.

  
"...let's go again." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The porniest thing I've ever written...feedback and kudos would be appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's this. Thanks for reading! Depending on the reader response, I could make a second chapter of the fulfilment of the request...so leave your thoughts in the comments.


End file.
